Living for a Better Yesterday
by Persephone1
Summary: What really got to Hisoka were Tsuzuki's eyes. The once bright violet orbs, so warm and full of life, were now dull and empty. They stared directly at Hisoka, but they didn't seem to register he was there. They didn't seem to see anything at all.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **This story is one that I've wanted to write for a while; I've just never found the time or the motivation. I don't have an exact place to where it falls in Yami no Matsuei's timeline, but it takes place sometime after the Kyoto arc. I hope that everyone likes it!

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Yami no Matsuei, I would force Matsushita-sensei to end her stupid hiatus and finish the series already!

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**Prologue**

Before he had died, this was always how Hisoka had imagined the afterlife. Dark, cold and dreary. Of course, in his vision, there had been a lot more people, and not quite so much white mist, but other than that, this was it. It wasn't the typical optimistic picture of fluffy clouds and blue skies he knew most people had, but considering his background, it was understandable that his own view would be a bit more negative.

To tell the truth, he wasn't sure where he was or how he had gotten here in the first place. However that didn't concern him much, though he was aware that it probably should have. There was something about this land that made things like that unimportant. It was a realm where such questions were trivial and the very concept of time had no place.

Perhaps he had had the right idea all along, and he really _was_ dead. After all, while he had moved on to Meifu after death, it wasn't the true afterlife. It was merely a sort of limbo for those who were not yet ready to pass on.

Although Hisoka supposed that his demise was a plausible explanation, he wasn't sure that he believed it. He had died once before, after all. While the whole process that had taken place before he had been offered the chance to become a shinigami was a bit fuzzy, he was certain there would be some feeling of familiarity if he had kicked the bucket a second time around.

Dead or not, Hisoka couldn't deny that there was something very unnerving about this place. It possessed a sort of unnatural stillness that Hisoka wasn't comfortable with. That, coupled with a sense of urgency that he couldn't explain made it abundantly clear that wherever he was, he couldn't stay here for long. He needed to find a way out, and as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, it appeared that the very air permeating the land had other ideas. As soon as he started moving, the light mist surrounding him suddenly became a dense, heavy substance. With impossible strength, it began to pull Hisoka down to some kind of unimaginable depth that he had been previously unaware of.

Hisoka tried to struggle, but it was like trying to walk through a current of mud, and the harder he tried, the tighter the hold became. He just kept being dragged down further and further, and somehow Hisoka knew that if it was allowed to continue, he wouldn't die. No, his fate would be far worse than that. He would simply cease to exist.

Dimmly, Hisoka was aware that he was in a lot of danger, but it was hard to focus on that as tendrils of mist coiled around him seductively. It was so...pretty. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he allowed it to take him. It wasn't hurting him, really, and he was suddenly so tired. He could just give up, let go of all that kept him tethered to the world. It would be easy. His life, his name, what did it matter? It all seemed so insignificant, and he was so very warm wrapped in this nothingness. He could just close his eyes and allow himself to sink into eternity…

_No_. It came in a flash of consciousness, in the form of a voice that could have been his own, but he wasn't sure. It was followed by a sharp moment of clarity as he fought to remember himself in this suffocating darkness.

What had he been thinking? Hisoka couldn't just disappear. He refused to allow it. Maybe once he would have let it happen, back when he had nothing to live for, but things were different now. _He _was different now. For the first time in all his memory, he had friends, a family who were waiting for him. He wasn't willing to give that up.

But obviously, if he ever hoped to return to them, he was going to have to change tactics. Struggling wasn't doing him any good; it only seemed to make things worse. It was like trying to swim against the flow of a great river. However, being on the brink of losing his identity had given Hisoka an idea. What if he didn't try to fight the pull? Instead of participating in a losing battle against an unstoppable force, what if he rode it instead? Maybe it would lead him to shore. It was crazy plan, possibly suicidal, but that only made Hisoka all the more certain that it could work.

Leaning back against the strange waves of energy, Hisoka forced his body to relax. Almost immediately, the grip slackened, and Hisoka discovered the experience of floating on virtually nothing that probably would have struck him as strange in different circumstances.

Closing his eyes, Hisoka cleared his mind. He could still feel the mist's strange pull, but this time he made sure to keep a firm hold of his sense of self, no matter how tempting it was to give up. Instead, he telepathically felt out his surroundings. The terrain was featureless; he wouldn't discover the way out with his eyes. However, the air was thick with energy. All he needed to do was focus his senses and wait for an opening.

_There._ It was faint, but Hisoka thought he could detect a barely discernable difference in the air. A kind of charge that wasn't present anywhere else. There was no way to see it visibly, but it felt like a rip in the veil. A door, and in his experience, doors usually led to exits.

He allowed the mist to carry him the slightest bit further, and then took a lunge for his freedom. As soon as it was disturbed, the mist coalesced and hardened around him, but it couldn't hold Hisoka this time. Not when he had a goal in his sights. He ran for the exit, conscious that the substance was still behind him, ready to drag him to oblivion.

But when he reached his destination, he discovered that he had been mistaken. The object Hisoka had been so desperately running towards was not a door at all. It was a wall. A thick, impenetrable wall that was blocking his way.

_No, _Hisoka thought as the fog drew closer. It couldn't end like this. There was still so much he wanted to do. So much he wanted to say. He wouldn't accept this cruel fate.

With a strength that not even Hisoka was consciously aware he possessed, he pressed against the blockade and focused all his power on a single word. Open. _Open, open, open_, _**open**._

And the wall obeyed, at least in a matter of speaking. It didn't open exactly, it was more like Hisoka fell through to the other side, but it was enough. However, once he got there, he soon discovered that he might not be any better off. Hisoka hadn't had time to consider what he expected to find behind the barrier, but he hadn't been prepared for the pain.

It was the most excruciating thing he had ever felt. He was being crushed by an unbelievable pressure and it was pulling at him, tearing him apart; making him into something new. His entire world was shattering, leaving him to suffocate in the rubble of what he once was.

Hisoka would have screamed, but he had neither a mouth to form the sound, nor was someone there with ears to hear it.

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**Author's Note: **You're all probably very confused. What's happening to Soka-chan? Don't worry, it will all be explained (eventually). I know that the prologue is vague and confusing, but the next chapter will be better, I promise. Please bear with me and review.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Here's my first update for the New Year! I'm well aware that my prologue sucked, and I'm hoping that this chapter will make up for it. Happy reading!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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**Chapter 1**

Hisoka knew that he was in a hospital room before he even opened his eyes. He had been a patient in such an establishment long enough to recognize the feeling of cheap, frequently laundered sheets and the sharp stench of disinfectant. But more than that, Hisoka knew the faint, underlying emotions of sorrow and despair that emanated from the very walls. It was the misery of the sick, the dying, and of all the people they were leaving behind. Yes, Hisoka knew it well.

Perhaps normally he would have wondered why he was in such a place, but in his current state between sleeping and waking, it didn't occur to him to find it strange. It wasn't until he heard the door opening and the sound of approaching footsteps that he realized that a year had passed since his last hospital stay, and any "illness" he had previously been suffering from he had already long died of.

Opening his eyes slowly, Hisoka first took in the sight of his room. It was larger than he had imagined, but everything else met well with his expectations. The walls were a drab shade of off-white, the floor was wooden and devoid of carpet, and the ceiling (also white) was paneled in tile, which Hisoka always felt was a must for hospitals because bedridden patients could count them when they got bored (he was speaking from experience). The only color came from the bright yellow curtains and the plastic flowers sitting on the nightstand, obviously placed there to try and force some cheer into the bland, miserable room.

_How did I get here?_ Hisoka wondered, sitting up slowly and turning to face the person he had initially heard entering the room. She was a pretty, brown haired young woman, probably in her late twenties, and judging by her white outfit, she was a nurse.

The nurse, slightly startled to see her patient stir so suddenly, didn't say anything right away. However, she recovered quickly and smiled. "It's good to see you awake, Kurosaki-san."

Hisoka's eyes widened in surprise. How could she possibly know his name? He didn't even technically _exist_ in this world anymore. Even if the hospital personnel happened to have his medical records on hand, he would only be listed as deceased. And yet he still had been greeted very kindly and respectfully, as if it was perfectly normal to see a sixteen year old boy who had been buried by his family over a year ago.

"What happened?" he asked warily. He was feeling very confused, and the oddly fuzzy sensation in his head wasn't helping. "Where am I? Where's Tsuzuki?"

The nurse looked at him sympathetically. "I think you're a little confused. That's not uncommon when a patient has been sedated."

_That _got Hisoka's attention. "What!" he exclaimed. "Sedated? Why?"

The nurse smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but unfortunately the effect was lost on Hisoka. "I don't think that I'm the right person to explain that to you. I'll go and get the doctor. He should be able to tell you all that you need to know." With that, she headed out the door.

A thousand questions ran through Hisoka's mind as panic grew in his chest. Sedated? Why had they sedated him? And what was he _doing _here? Was it possible that he had been caught unawares while on a case and brought here by civilians? But he couldn't remember being assigned to anything recently, and that didn't explain how the woman had known his name. And besides, as far as he could tell, he didn't seem injured. It didn't make any sense to why they would feel the need to bring him here, let alone sedate him. He supposed his body could have healed itself already, but Hisoka couldn't recall being in any situation that would put him in such a state, and the nurse hadn't made it seem like he was there for a particular wound or ailment.

These were all very valid concerns that desperately needed to be addressed, but one thing burned in Hisoka's mind above all others. Where was Tsuzuki? If Hisoka was in the world of the living, his partner had to be nearby. The man was far too protective to be able to just leave Hisoka here. That is, if Tsuzuki even knew where he was in the first place.

Was it possible that these people had somehow discovered that he and Tsuzuki were shinigami? It would explain why he had been sedated. If that was the case, he had to find Tsuzuki and get out immediately.

Quickly, Hisoka jumped out of bed. His first thought was to become invisible so he could look around the hospital for his partner. However, nothing seemed to happen when he tried, so he concluded that this place must have some kind of wards put up to prevent such acts.

Breaking wards had always been in Tsuzuki's department. Hisoka probably could have done it if he tried, but it would have taken time, and he wasn't sure when his nurse would be coming back. Instead, he decided to see if it was possible to go out the window. He felt guilty about entertaining the idea of leaving Tsuzuki here, but for all he knew, his partner was outside somewhere looking for him. If Tsuzuki _was_ here, Hisoka figured that he could find a way to contact JuOhCho, get help and come back for him. Besides, it would probably be a good idea to figure out exactly where he was.

But when Hisoka opened the curtains and took in the view outside, any thoughts of escape flew out the window. Not because of the thick glass and great distance between his room and the ground, but because of what he saw before him.

He was obviously somewhere in the country. He could see a pretty landscape of neatly groomed grass and trees, with a nearby road connecting to a distant city. The scene would have been considered perfectly ordinary had it not been for the people walking outside. Not a single person was wearing anything even remotely modern. Fashion varied between traditional Japanese wear to a more Western style of suits, dresses and hats. On the road, Hisoka was sure that he could make out boxy, old-fashioned cars, and even a few horse drawn carriages. It was like looking at something out of a movie.

Hisoka was so distracted by this strange scene he didn't notice that his nurse had come back until the woman was right behind him. "The doctor is busy at the moment, but he said that later he'd be able to—"

"Where am I?" Hisoka asked her, emerald eyes wide.

The nurse seemed slightly surprised at the question. "You don't know? I thought that your parents would have talked to you about this, at least."

"My parents?" Hisoka repeated. "What do they have to do—No, it doesn't matter right now. What city is this? What's the date today?" _Remain calm,_ he told himself firmly. There had to be some kind of rational explanation for all this. Maybe there was some kind of festival going on, or someone really _was _shooting a movie here. Yeah, that had to be it.

However, instead of confirming ideas that not even Hisoka truly believed, the nurse, rather confused by such a strange line of inquery, answered, "You're just outside of Kyoto, dear. And as for the date, it's October 1, 1925."

Hisoka shook his head wildly. "_**1925!**_ That can't be right! It can't be!" He wasn't a sceptic. He was an empath, he had fought demons; he knew how to fly! But this! He couldn't have possibly traveled over eighty years in the past! If that was true, how could this woman be talking about his parents and calling him by name? He hadn't even been _born_ yet!

"Kurosaki-san, I think you'd better lay down." the nurse advised, worried at how pale the boy had suddenly become. Gently, she reached out to guide him back to bed, but Hisoka pushed her hand away.

"No, I can't lie down. I have to get out of here. I have to find Tsuzuki." He would find his partner, they would go back to Meifu together, and everything would make sense again. It had to.

Ignoring the woman's calls to come back, Hisoka ran out of the room. Unfortunately, all her shouting gathered reinforcements, and the green eyed shinigami soon found himself being pursued by numerous hospital employees.

However, Hisoka was young, fast, and he had a head start. He weaved through hallways and ran down stairs, all the while seeking out his partner's familiar wave of emotions. But strangely, while Hisoka could feel faint signatures on the edge of his senses, nothing was distinct. It was odd. In such an emotional place so full of people, the force of his empathy would normally be nearly overwhelming. But now, he could feel almost nothing. Perhaps it was a side effect of the sedative?

It got to the point where Hisoka had let down all the usual guards on his senses just to feel anything at all; therefore when he finally caught on to a strong signal, the force of it nearly knocked him over.

_Tsuzuki._ It didn't feel like Tsuzuki. The signature contained none of the man's usual warmth and cheer. It didn't really contain any emotion that Hisoka recognized. However, somehow he knew with complete certainty that this feeling was coming from his partner. The rest didn't matter. Hisoka had caught on to his scent, and he was going to follow it.

Luckily, after all his quick maneuvering, it appeared he had lost his pursuers for the moment. Following that trace of emotion, Hisoka continued down another hallway, took a left, and walked towards the third door on the right.

It was locked, but the emerald eyed boy didn't let that stop him. When he was younger, he had often picked the lock on his cell in order to go out at night. After that, the lock on one measly door posed no challenge, even with his lack of the proper tools.

But despite his determination, once he got that door open, what he saw in the room froze him in place.

"Tsuzuki," he whispered. It was, without a doubt, his partner, but if he hadn't been standing there, seeing him for himself, he never would have believed it.

Tsuzuki was lying on a bed, wearing a white yukata that was exactly like Hisoka's, though the boy hadn't given his own attire much thought till now. However, that alone wasn't what disturbed him. What really got to the boy were his eyes. The once bright violet eyes, so warm and full of life, were now dull and empty. They stared directly at Hisoka, but they didn't seem to process that he was there. They didn't seem to see anything at all.

"Are you lost, boy? That's the only reason I can think of for you being here." The voice was smooth, cultured, and oh so familiar.

Slowly, Hisoka turned around, and there, leaning on the opposite wall, was the object of his nightmares. "Muraki," he murmured. Hisoka had always known that he would come back. The devil doesn't die, especially not by flame. Of course he would be the one behind this.

The doctor smiled. "Kurosaki-san, I understand that this is quite the shock for you, but I must insist that you return to your room." Muraki reached out for his wrist, as if he intended to escort Hisoka out himself.

Hisoka jerked away, taking a couple steps back to put some distance between them. "What did you do to him?" Hisoka demanded. He couldn't get Tsuzuki's soulless gaze out of his mind.

Muraki frowned, obviously displeased at his patient's lack of compliance. "I don't know what you are talking about."

The fear he had initially felt was rapidly being replaced with rage. "Like hell! _**What did you do to him**_?" Hisoka yelled.

"Kurosaki-san, I can assure you that I do not have the faintest idea of who this "him" you speak of is. This uproar of yours is disturbing the others patients. Please go back to your room." He spoke as if he was scolding a difficult, disobedient child, and that only made Hisoka angrier.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Hisoka growled, planting his feet firmly. There was no way he was leaving his partner like this.

Muraki sighed. "I'm afraid I really must insist."

As if on cue, several nurses appeared in the doorframe and rapidly advanced towards him. Hisoka tried backing away, but soon he was up against a wall. Taking advantage of his predicament, two nurses grabbed a hold of his arms while another seized his waist.

"Let go of me!" Hisoka yelled, thrashing wildly.

"Kurosaki-san, please calm down!" one of the nurses (it was hard to tell which) pleaded.

Hisoka shook his head violently. "No! I won't leave him! Not with you **_monsters_**!"

Again, he heard a soft, exasperated sigh. "I was so hoping that I wouldn't have to do this."

The green eyed shinigami felt a tiny prick on his forearm, and suddenly his vision was swimming and his eyelids were drifting shut.

With arms as heavy as lead, he desperately reached out towards his partner. "Tsuzuki," he whispered, softly pleading for the man to help him, to save him. To do _something._

The last thing he saw before blackness took him were his partner's empty purple eyes.

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**Author's Note: **I have no idea if the hospital Tsuzuki was a patient at was actually in Kyoto, but it felt right so I decided that it would be the setting. If I'm wrong, feel free to correct me, as well as any other historical facts I might be incorrect on. I'm all for accuracy.

Please, please review! Nobody did last time, and while I understand that there wasn't exactly much to comment on, it still made me feel a little unloved.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **You know, I think I've started almost every new chapter I've ever written with "I'm sorry." What does that say about my character? Oh well. Hopefully the new chapter will make up for the long wait.

By the way, I did a new summary, but it doesn't seem like it changed at all. Is that just me? And if it isn't, do you like it?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yami no Matsuei or any of its characters.

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**Chapter 2**

Pain had never been a foreign concept to Hisoka. It was something he had grown up with. On the rare occasions his mother actually touched him; it had been specifically for the purpose of smacking him around. By the time he had turned sixteen; Hisoka had already been brutally raped and cursed, which had ultimately resulted in a slow, agonizing death.

His suffering hadn't ended there. If anything, death had only been the beginning. His afterlife was highlighted by incidents in which he had been kidnapped, tortured, and very nearly burned alive. Hisoka's body had even been hacked apart by a cleaver at one point. That being said, waking up after being dosed twice with sedatives in a relatively short period of time was hardly the most unpleasant thing he had ever experienced. It just might have made the top ten though.

Sluggishly, Hisoka forced his eyes open. Same white ceiling, same boring room. Someone must have carried him back to bed after he had passed out.

"Oh good, you're awake," a young voice said from somewhere to his right.

Startled, Hisoka slowly turned his head to see a small girl, no older than three or four, sitting next to his bed. She was wearing a pink and white dress, and her shockingly white blonde hair was tied back in pigtails. Sitting on her lap was a doll with wide blue eyes and black curls. The toy was obviously well-made, and would have probably been very beautiful had it not been for the large crack spider-webbing across its porcelain cheek.

"Who are you?" Hisoka asked.

"I've been waiting here for a very long time you know," the girl informed him, as if he hadn't spoken, "I thought you were _never _going to wake up."

"I'm…sorry?" Hisoka answered, although he wasn't sure why he felt the need to apologize for something he had no control over. "Why are you here?"

But the girl seemed determined not to answer his questions. Instead she simply smiled, reaching out to touch the shinigami's cheek. "You're so pretty. You look just like one of my dolls. I could dress you up in ribbons and lace, and you would be much prettier than all of them."

Hisoka blinked, not certain of how to respond to the girl's odd, and he couldn't help but think, vaguely creepy compliment.

Fortunately, the weird conversation was cut short by the sound of the door opening. "The last thing you need is more dolls, Sachiko." Apparently, Hisoka realized as a shiver went creeping up his spine, Muraki had returned.

"Papa!" the little girl, Sachiko, cried gleefully. Evidently, his apprehension wasn't shared.

_Papa?_ Hisoka thought incredulously. Muraki had actually fathered a child? He would not have pegged him as the child rearing type.

But now that the initial shock and the haze of medication had mostly faded away, he realized for the first time that the man in front of him was not the murderer he knew. The resemblance was there, and it was startling. However, his hair was slightly darker, and his eyes were not that strange shade of glinting, mismatched silver that Hisoka was so familiar with. This man was not Muraki.

The man, whoever he was, bent down to his young daughter's eye level. "I don't know why we keep buying you dolls when all you do is break them. What happened to Marianne?"

At the question, Sachiko's sweet face suddenly darkened. "She was being a bad girl," she said, grabbing the doll's ebony tresses and tugging savagely. "Bad girls need to be punished."

The whole scene struck Hisoka as incredibly disturbing, which considering all he had seen in both his life and afterlife, was saying something. Muraki's look-alike on the other hand, simply smiled and pried the girl's small fingers out of poor Marianne's hair.

"You really should be more careful with your toys," he said in a gently scolding tone. "What are you doing here anyway? You know better than to bother my patients."

Sachiko looked down at her feet, the picture of childlike remorse. Had it not been for the sight of Marianne's ruined face, Hisoka would have thought he had imagined the darkness lurking in her eyes just a few seconds ago. "I overheard the nurses talking about a new patient, and I wanted to see him for myself. I'm sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again," her father replied, patting the little girl briefly on the head and pushing her gently towards the door. "Now, I need to talk to Kurosaki-san in private, so run along."

"Okay, Papa." But just before exiting the room, Sachiko turned to Hisoka with a bright smile on her face. "Maybe once you get a little better, we could play together sometime!"

The green eyed shinigami nodded, all the while desperately praying that the suggestion would never come to pass. The girl seemed harmless for the most part, but he couldn't forget that unnerving, slightly insane expression that was so at odds with her sweet young face. He couldn't help but think that it reminded him of someone else.

However, the young child did not know Hisoka's thoughts, and was satisfied with his apparent agreement. With a final little parting wave, Sachiko skipped off; poor, abused Marianne still clutched tightly in her arms.

Soon after the girl was out of sight, her father turned his attention back to Hisoka. "I apologize if my daughter bothered you in any way, Kurosaki-san."

"Oh yes, we wouldn't have wanted my medicated unconsciousness to be disturbed." Hisoka replied sarcastically.

"Again, I apologize, but you must understand at the time you were hysterical. I had to calm you down somehow, and you weren't listening to reason. I felt sedatives were my only option."

"But the nurse said that I had been sedated before. What was your excuse the first time?" Hisoka asked suspiciously.

The man shook his head, "I wasn't the one who dosed you then. Apparently, your parents hadn't believed that you would be willing to come here on your own, so they knocked you out to make the transport easier. It was not a method that I would have recommended."

_My __**parents **__drugged me? _What kind of people would do that to their own son? Actually, considering that they used to lock him in the basement, he could imagine them doing that, but this was supposedly the year 1925. Hisoka's parents wouldn't have been born yet so how could they have possibly...and he was going to hold that thought to reflect on later. The subject was making his head hurt, besides, he had more immediate concerns.

"What is this place? Who are you?" He couldn't possibly be Muraki, but the resemblance was too uncanny for it to be a coincidence.

The man smiled. "Yes, your nurse told me about your lack of information. I thought your parents would have at least discussed the subject with you before sending you here…but no matter. I am Dr. Muraki Yukitaka, and this is my hospital."

At the mention of the name, something clicked in Hisoka's head. Yes, that made sense. Hisoka dimly recalled hearing somewhere that Muraki's grandfather had also been a doctor. He had even turned his own house into a hospital, which would explain why it was so far out in the country. Muraki Yukitaka was probably that grandfather.

But one thing still didn't make sense…"Why did they bring me here? I'm not sick." _Anymore_.

Muraki sighed, "I'm afraid you are. If what your parents say is true, for a long time now you've periodically experienced "episodes" in which you are prone to drastic mood swings, particularly if anyone tries to get close to you. At one point, you even threw a vase at your mother, screaming at her to "be quiet." Occasionally, these incidents would become so bad you would succumb to fainting spells. Your parents feared that you could become a danger to yourself, and after yesterday, I'm inclined to agree."

"I am _not_ crazy!" Hisoka growled.

"I never claimed that you were. You are sick, plain and simple. With the proper care, I believe you can get better." Muraki said, leaning down to sit on the bed, most likely in an attempt to make his presence less intimidating. However, his hand inadvertently brushed Hisoka's arm in the process, and through that contact the empath received a sudden burst of clarity on the doctor's intentions.

He may claim that Hisoka had medical problems, but the doctor didn't truly believe his own story. He wasn't concerned, he was curious, even somewhat excited. It reminded Hisoka of back when he was alive. He had met with specialist after specialist, each one fruitlessly attempting to decipher what was killing him. They had all felt just like this; far more interested in the disease than the patient.

Muraki couldn't have cared less if Hisoka "got better." He considered Hisoka's abilities to be an interesting anomaly, something he wanted to test, study, and possibly replicate. It was probably the same with Tsuzuki as well.

It was with this thought in mind that Hisoka decided to broach the subject of his partner with the "doctor", "What about Tsuzuki?" he demanded. "Why is he here?"

Muraki's eyes darkened, much like Sachiko's had, and for the first time Hisoka noticed just how much she looked like her father. "That man is none of your concern. He has been a patient here for a long time and you will stay away from him."

"Why?" Hisoka asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Like I said, he is none of your concern." Muraki repeated. "Clearly, you've developed an attachment to him, perhaps seeing in him a kindred spirit, but I won't subject a patient to the stress of another's delusions."

_I though you said I wasn't crazy,_ Hisoka thought sardonically. But of course, those words were merely an excuse. No, the doctor was hiding something, and Hisoka intended to find out what that was.

* * *

Between the sedatives and the shock of waking up before World War II, Hisoka hadn't been given much time to truly contemplate his circumstances. But if there was one thing a hospital offered in abundance, other than medication and general suffering, it was spare time. Unfortunately, after pondering all the factors and looking at things from every angle, the only conclusion Hisoka came up with was that nothing made sense.

He understood that somehow, he had ended up in the past. All he had to do was look out his window to confirm that. But Hisoka had never heard of such a thing being possible. Even if it was, there was no way that he would have existed in this time frame. Yet, nobody seemed to question his presence. The way Muraki made it sound, he had a life here, a family, and his arrival at the hospital had been planned for quite some time. Maybe he had infiltrated someone else's body? Someone with the same name, appearance, and judging from Muraki's list of "symptoms", the same powers as him? It was too much of a coincidence. Was it possible he was reliving a past life? But past lives weren't supposed to actually look like their present selves. They didn't usually have any relation to one another at all.

And what of his empathy? It kept fluctuating unpredictably, even long after the meds had worn off. One second it was so strong he wanted to clutch at his head and scream, even if it brought every nurse into his room, the next it was barely a whisper in his consciousness. Even as a child, before he had developed his mental barriers, Hisoka's powers hadn't acted like this.

It wasn't just his empathy either. All of his shinigami powers were gone as well. Hisoka's finger still ached from where he had cut himself with a knife earlier to see if the wound would heal. All the act had earned him was a disturbed look from the nurse, (who had been an unanticipated spectator), a discernable absence of anything that could be considered sharp from his room, and medication. Apparently they were concerned that he might have masochistic tendencies.

Hisoka had been wary of the little white pills at first. Empathy and controlled substances, such as drugs and alcohol, did not mix well. They destroyed his mental shields and made everything he felt more potent. That, coupled with the substances natural effects, disoriented him and made it hard to differentiate between his own emotions and everyone else's.

However, when the beady little eyes of the nurse watching him intently made taking the pills unavoidable, Hisoka soon discovered he had nothing to worry about. The meds were nothing but sugar pills. Muraki wanted to study him after all. It wouldn't do to give Hisoka something that could possibly dull his senses. He would probably start experimenting with his reactions to certain chemicals at some point, but not this early in the game with so little data.

Hisoka supposed a lack of information was one thing he and Muraki had in common. The doctor would come into his room often, ask him questions, sometimes show him flashcards and study his reactions, taking notes all the while. However, Hisoka could sense his frustration. His was not a gift that was easily studied, especially in this age with so little technological assistance. Empathy wasn't like mind reading. He couldn't hear thoughts as sentences in his head and parrot them back. It wasn't something as exact as that. Sometimes, if an emotion was strong enough, he could _feel_ a person's desires and intentions, but he couldn't identify whether the card Muraki was thinking of was the Ace of Spades or the Queen of Hearts.

Basically, all Muraki's work was useless without Hisoka's cooperation, which wasn't something he was willing to offer. He wouldn't even let on that he knew what Muraki was after. The "Hisoka" in this time period may have been dumb enough to open his big mouth (for how else could he of ended up here), but he certainly wasn't.

Instead, he bided his time. Like Muraki, he was frustrated with just how little he knew, and one way to help rectify his ignorance was to take a look at these "records" Muraki was keeping.

It was disgustingly easy to sneak out of his room. Years of slipping outdoors behind his parents' backs had taught Hisoka stealth. Furthermore, with his empathy he could sense whether or not someone was coming. Although due to its currently unpredictable nature, he didn't plan on relying on it much. He had also spent several days observing the nurses, becoming familiar with their schedules and habits. He knew when they changed shifts, when they went for coffee breaks, and when they snuck off for a smoke in the garden. Even if his powers had suddenly failed him, he would have still had a general idea of where everyone was.

It was also relatively simple to locate Muraki's office. Every human being radiates a distinct energy that often lingers in places where they spend a lot of time. He supposed some would call it a person's aura. Hisoka simply followed that sense, and when it led him to a door with the good doctor's name written on it, he knew he had found the right place.

The door was locked, but Hisoka had expected that and equipped himself accordingly. One oddity in the hospital was that everything was done in a very western style. The architecture, furnishings, even the food were all evidence that Muraki had studied abroad. Before he had been put on suicide watch, Hisoka had managed to pocket a fork and had spent much of his time carefully bending it into a shape that could properly accommodate a key hole.

Unfortunately, a contorted fork was hardly an ideal lock pick, and it took an irritating amount of twisting and maneuvering before he was rewarded by a soft "click". A sound that seemed far louder than it actually was when listened to by someone under the stress of criminal activity. Hisoka waited a moment to make sure no one was coming (or would be coming any time soon) and quietly slipped inside.

Hisoka had expected Muraki's office to be clean, as spotless as the pure white lab coat he was always wearing (it was truly shocking how alike Muraki Yukitaka was to his grandson. Even their sense of fashion appeared to be similar.) It was not. There were papers scattered across the desk, making the wooden surface almost unrecognizable. On the floor, there were scattered clothes and empty dishes still bearing the half eaten remains of what had probably been the man's dinner. Pushed in the corner of the room was a small futon and tangled blankets, a visible indent making it obvious that someone had recently slept there. Hisoka dimly wondered why Muraki had chosen to make his home his workplace when he clearly preferred to more or less live in his office.

Stepping carefully to avoid disturbing anything, Hisoka walked towards Muraki's desk, pausing to turn on a small lamp. It was inconvenient that Muraki was apparently such a slob. It would make finding what he was looking for that much harder.

Hisoka sifted through notes, employee performance reviews and medical journals with a sense of urgency. He had originally been counting on Muraki's office being empty this late at night, but judging from all the personal items scattered around, the man could walk in at any moment. Hisoka could only hope that Muraki was either spending an obviously rare night with his family, or his equally evident workaholic tendencies would keep him on the floor well into the night.

Eventually, about halfway through the deskwork, Hisoka discovered that the doctor apparently did have a sort of disorganized filing system. It probably made perfect sense to him, but was almost unfathomable to the rest of the world. Certain papers were grouped together in messy piles. Unfortunately, there was much crossover between the stacks, and some of the paperwork didn't appear to relate to each other at all. It reminded Hisoka of Watari's shoddy filing system for his potions and experiments, which often resulted in many accidents and the blowing up of his lab on more than one occasion.

In the end, Hisoka found himself with his head in his arms, nursing a growing headache and knowing more about the hospital administration, its employees, and certain pharmaceuticals than he had ever cared to learn. It wasn't until Hisoka sat up; on the verge of begrudgingly surrendering for the night, that he noticed a set of drawers under the desk's tabletop. Locked drawers. Hisoka smirked to himself, and had to fight the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry, _Bingo_!

The locks were a bit smaller than the one on the door, so they were harder to get in to. However, after a few minutes of turning and whispered curses, Hisoka managed to pop them open. The contents in the first drawer were unremarkable. A pack of cigarettes, matches, and a bottle of scotch. A doctor should probably know better than to drink and light up in his office, especially in a hospital, but nothing in the drawer could really be called incriminating. The second drawer was where Hisoka struck gold.

Manila folders brimming with papers were arranged neatly bearing patients' names in alphabetical order, a stark contrast to the mess on Muraki's desk. Medical records, finally.

However, Hisoka's relief didn't last. It only took a cursory glance to realize that neither his name nor his partner's were present in the collection.

Frustration seized at Hisoka's insides. Muraki had to have records on them. Hisoka knew he did. But where else would he keep them? He had already looked everywhere…

His eyes fell on to the first drawer. He had originally thought it only contained the indulgences of a doctor that was supposed to be working, but looking at the oddly empty drawer again a crazy idea formed in his head, born from being forced to watch far too many murder mystery movies with Tsuzuki.

There was no way Hisoka's theory was correct. It was too cliché, too over the top…but yes. Knocking against the drawer's bottom revealed a hollow sound, and when Hisoka's fingers discovered a cache cleverly disguised as a knot in the wood, he wondered just how paranoid Muraki truly was. But then he remembered that he _was_ breaking into the man's office, so maybe Muraki was paranoid just enough.

Inside the drawer was a stack very similar to the one beside it, but considerably smaller. There were maybe ten folders in all. None of them had names, only numbers, but after flipping through a few Hisoka found what he was looking for.

He read his own file first. It contained his family history, a full medical report on his overall health, and notes upon notes on his behavior.

_Parents report that subject claims to be able to "feel" things. These feelings appear to intensify with physical contact. Must study further to confirm._

_Subject is decidedly uncooperative, and he doesn't trust me. Needs to adjust to hospital atmosphere before true work can be done. _

_Condition doesn't seem to relate to other's thoughts, but I can't be sure. He hides his abilities well, and he isn't talking to me about it._

Other than the fact that Muraki apparently had excellent penmanship, the notes didn't reveal anything Hisoka didn't already know. He quickly moved on to Tsuzuki's file, which was labeled under "Subject 0", was infinitely more vast than his own, and appeared to include a journal.

_Subject 0's consciousness hasn't surfaced since he got here. He's gone three weeks without food, water or sleep._

_Subject 0's body has been proven to be impermeable to fire and knives. Perhaps next I will see his reaction to poisons…_

_Subject 0 briefly surfaced from his vegetative state today. He then proceeded to attempt to bash his head against the bed frame. He was promptly sedated and slipped back into his coma._

The more Hisoka read, the more horrified he became as he comprehended his partner's torture. How much pain had Muraki inflicted on him, merely to see if he could bounce back? How often had Tsuzuki tried to commit suicide, only to fail and quietly slip back into catatonia?

Before, Hisoka had assumed that he and Tsuzuki had been transported to this time together. However, after reading this journal he began to consider for the first time that maybe Tsuzuki actually belonged here. He would have certainly been alive in 1925 after all, and while Hisoka was supposedly a new arrival, this journal went back many years. But if he was human, he shouldn't have his shinigami powers…

Hisoka suddenly remembered a night spent under a bridge, Tsuzuki's head in his lap while Hisoka repeatedly assured him that yes, he was human. That he was the most human person he knew. Was this why Tsuzuki was so afraid of the contrary? So afraid that he felt his very existence should be erased?

Hisoka didn't think he could answer this question. Not tonight. Too many things were whizzing around in his brain, and he had been here for far too long already. After putting everything back where he had found them as well as he could (not that he thought Muraki would notice), he made his exit, being sure to lock the door behind him.

* * *

Its watchful gaze bore into the boy as he made his retreat back to his room. He was certainly a sharp one, but it wasn't worried. True, it hadn't counted on his presence, but he could prove to be useful yet. He was quite talented, far more talented than he knew, and with careful manipulation, it was certain he could be of help to it.

But for now, it was content to wait and watch to see how its adorable little chess pieces chose to move, blissfully unaware that they were playing right into its hands.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This should have come out much sooner than it did, but I've been lazy. I promised myself I'd spend this summer writing, but now it's more than half over and this is the first thing I've posted. It's sad really, so this time I'm giving myself a deadline, and if I don't make it, feel free to kick me in the butt and tell me to get on a move on.

**Deadline:** The end of October

Last of all, please review!


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Happy Halloween everyone! I can't believe I actually made my deadline! Let me tell you, I only just managed it by the skin of my teeth!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Yami no Matsuei, I would be able to get my hands on a translated version of the new volume 12. Anyone know where I can find that?

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Hisoka was used to being coddled. It was something he had become reluctantly accustomed to after resigning himself to the fact that he was going to remain sixteen for the rest of eternity. His apparent youth was always going to cause people to view him as someone who needed to be taken care of. He could snap and glower all he wanted, but as long as he continued to look like a child, there was not much he could do about it.

However, the hospital staff was on a whole other level. A nurse would come in what felt like every five minutes just to "check up on him," his meals and daily medication were closely monitored, and he wasn't allowed to leave his room. They probably would have escorted him to the bathroom had he allowed it. This was rather inconvenient because Hisoka could hardly search for information with the entire administration watching him like a hawk. He considered it a minor miracle that he was able to slip out a few nights ago. He also sorely missed his independence and sense of privacy, and he was slowly going crazy staring at the same four walls day after day.

So, the next couple days, Hisoka tried his very best to be good. He was polite to the nurses, took his prescription as ordered, and while he still refused to go along with Muraki's "therapy," he tried not to be quite so blatantly rude about it.

Eventually, his behavior was rewarded when Muraki finally told him he could wander around the hospital if he chose. This of course was only on the condition that he had a nurse escort him at all times, he stayed on the hospital grounds, and he didn't bother the other patients.

The chaperone posed somewhat of a problem because he couldn't really explore with someone looking over his shoulder. Fortunately, he was assigned the same nurse every time, and she wasn't very keen on following him around either. After some earnest insistence that he could look after himself, Hisoka managed to convince her to take break instead. Once he lost his tail, he could finally go and visit Tsuzuki.

At first, Hisoka had been a bit wary of seeing the man. The first time had left a very firm impression on his psyche. He had become so accustomed to seeing Tsuzuki as such a happy and spirited person that it was difficult to accept him as a blank eyed vegetable. But it was also for this reason the Hisoka resolved that he had to go. Even if this was the Tsuzuki of 1925, even if he had no idea who Hisoka was, the man was still his partner. Tsuzuki wouldn't have left him if the roles were reversed, and Hisoka wasn't going to abandon him when his partner needed his help.

Once he had a legitimate reason for being out of his room, going to see Tsuzuki wasn't very difficult. Unlike Hisoka, Tsuzuki never seemed to have any visitors. And why would he? He never spoke, he didn't seem to really need to eat, and didn't have any important treatments that required attention. The nurses and the other doctors appeared to be aware of his existence, but no one gave him much thought. He was simply there, as a part of this hospital as the stones that made up the foundation. There was always Muraki to consider of course, but the doctor appeared to be a creature of habit. He always made his rounds in the same order every day. All Hisoka had to do was memorize his schedule and stay out of certain places at certain times of the day.

In the beginning, visiting had been hard and Hisoka never stayed very long. It was unnerving to stare into those unblinking, void-like eyes, especially when compared to the image of the bubbly, somewhat childish shinigami that resided in his thoughts. Hisoka didn't know what do or say in this situation, so eventually, he just started talking. About how his day was going, the hospital food, his hatred of Muraki. He spoke of JuOhCho, of other shinigami. Anything that popped into his head really. It had felt rather odd at first to just sit and more or less talk to himself, but he had read once that coma patients were supposedly able to hear outside voices, so he kept at it. It was actually somewhat cathartic to get this stuff off his chest, even if no one was listening.

Eventually, he established a pattern. Wake up, take medication and eat breakfast, visit Tsuzuki, eat lunch, go back to room, eat dinner, sleep and repeat. Muraki's weekly "check ups" were thrown in here and there, but it was essentially the same routine every day.

At least it was, until a single event threw a monkey wrench into it all.

* * *

In all the three years that Hisoka had spent slowly dying in a hospital bed; his parents hadn't visited him once. He had never expected them to. From the very beginning, everyone had known that what Hisoka had contracted wasn't a normal sickness, and that nothing done was going to cure him. That wasn't why his parents had sent him away. They had shipped him off to die quietly, out of sight and within someone else's care. He had been their precious heir, but he was of no use broken, so they had sent him away so that they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. Hisoka had understood this, had moved past the hurt and accepted it as just how things were.

This is why he was so shocked when a nurse, the same one he had woken up to that first day, told him that they were coming to see him.

"They're coming _here_?" Hisoka repeated, just to make sure he had heard correctly.

The young woman (Fumiko) beamed and nodded, apparently mistaking his utter disbelief for pleasure, "Yes! We received a letter from them a few days ago saying that they planned to visit. I didn't say anything because I wanted to surprise you!"

The woman must have had a wonderful family life, a loving mother and father, maybe a sibling or two. It was only with that kind of household that a person could possibly think receiving a "surprise" visit from one's parents could be a _good_ thing. They wouldn't even be Hisoka's real parents (not that it would have made a real difference). He was going to be forced to spend an afternoon with a pair of complete strangers, and he apparently had very little time to prepare.

"When will they be here?" Hisoka asked warily.

Fumiko's smile grew wider, and Hisoka knew he wasn't going to like the next thing that came out of her mouth. "You can come in now!"

The door opened, revealing a man and a woman standing on the other side.

Hisoka was really beginning to hate surprises.

They didn't look like his parents, although they resembled him enough that they could have been. The woman had his same green eyes, and the man was short and had a smaller build, much like Hisoka's own body. They also looked somewhat familiar, but Hisoka couldn't quite place how…

"I'll give you all some time alone," Fumiko said. "I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on." She shut the door behind her, leaving Hisoka alone, much to his horror.

There was a few seconds of awkward silence, but it was eventually broken by the woman. "It's good to see you, Hisoka! We've missed you so much back home. Have you been doing well?" Her voice was bright and cheerful as she moved to sit next to his bed.

His "father" also moved closer, but in lieu to any actual greeting, he merely nodded to Hisoka once and then proceeded to stare at the space just above his head.

The woman was a talker. Hisoka quickly discovered that he didn't have to worry about coming up with responses or acting in character because she didn't seem to want or expect any voices outside of her own. She talked about what had occurred in Kamakura since he had left; the activities of servants and the locals (which were particularly confusing for Hisoka because he had no idea who any of these people were), all the while reiterating how much he was missed.

To an outside observer, it would look like the reunion of a loving family. If he were anyone else, Hisoka probably would have been convinced as well. But he couldn't help but notice how strained the woman's voice was, and that during the entire visit, neither of his parents touched him, not even once. There were no hugs exchanged, no one reached out to hold his hand or pat him on the shoulder. Nothing. But Hisoka didn't need physical contact to be able to read them. Their emotions spoke in waves of fear and contempt.

This visit was nothing more than a show, neither one of them really wanted to be there. In their eyes, he was a freak, a blight on the Kurosaki name. The woman was merely speaking the words she knew were expected from a mother, and they weren't even for his own benefit. They were for the people who may have been listening.

Hisoka's own parents had been far from perfect, but at the very least they had never pretended. They had made it very clear where he stood with them, and while that knowledge had hurt, it was better than this false affection he was being showered with.

"If you really missed me so much, why did you send me here?" Hisoka asked bitterly.

His "mother" sighed, "I know this is hard, but it's for your own good. Doctor Muraki can help yo—"

"He has no interest in "helping" me, and neither do you. You just want me somewhere I can't embarrass you anymore." Whether it was a hospital or a small room in the cellar, it all amounted to the same thing.

"Hisoka, how could you say that?" his mother's eyes were wide, but she was more concerned that his tone would be overheard than the actual words.

"Shut up!" Hisoka snapped, "Don't pretend to care when I know that you don't. You can't lie to me. Not when I can see inside your rotten heart."

For the first time, the man spoke up. "Don't talk to your mother that way," he growled, seizing Hisoka's wrist.

The boy's eyes widened as a wave of something cold and slippery washed over him, and in it was strange kind of awareness that was separate from the man's own consciousness. It knew Hisoka could feel it; it was pressing against his mind, trying to seep into the cracks and take hold. With a gasp, he wrenched his hand away.

"What are you?" Hisoka whispered with wide eyes. _I've felt this before, _he realized, _back when I was a child. _The presence had always been there, cloaking their house, but at the time he had been so young, his powers barely developed, and it had felt so commonplace he had barely noticed. And it had never felt this strong.

The man's eyes grew sharp, "What are you talking about boy?" he demanded, reaching out as if to grab Hisoka again.

"**Don't touch me!**" Hisoka shrieked, throwing his hands up. A bolt of psychic energy flew from his body, and the Kurosaki head was thrown backwards against the wall.

Fumiko ran in, probably in response to the resounding crash. "What's going on here?" she demanded.

"It's the boy," his "mother" said, pointing an accusing finger in his direction, "He pushed my husband down. He's a demon, I tell you!"

"_He's a demon!"_

"_He's not my child!"_

"_Get rid of him Nagare!"_

He remembered those words. The things the maids whispered when they thought he couldn't hear; the ravings of his mother when she was in one of her fits, the demands of the illustrious Kurosaki family when they found out that their precious heir was a being that was less than perfect. A monster, a demon child that needed to be locked away so that it wouldn't frighten the "good and honest people." They had all looked at him the way this woman was looking at him now. A mixture of terror and hatred simply because he was something beyond their understanding.

The nurse turned to look at him as well, "Kurosaki-san…"

But Hisoka didn't bother listening to anything she had to say. He couldn't handle the blind hatred and fear that radiated from the room, so he did the only thing he felt like he could do. He ran.

* * *

Hisoka was not a monster! He couldn't help what he saw and felt; they were abilities he had been born with. He had never wanted them! No one could have possibly understood the horror of feeling the secret desires people hid. All the hate and sadness and lust he felt as if they were his own. He hated it! _He hated it!_

He ran without purpose or real direction. He just wanted to get away from it all. Perhaps it was out of habit, or perhaps it was some kind of subconscious desire to talk to someone, but he eventually ended up standing in front of Tsuzuki's door.

The man was the same as ever, despondent and unmoving, but Hisoka still took comfort in his familiar presence.

Even though he knew that he shouldn't, that the hospital staff was most likely looking for him and getting caught here would have been bad, Hisoka couldn't stop himself from sitting at Tsuzuki's bedside.

"You were a rare one, Tsuzuki," Hisoka remarked fondly, "Even when everyone else lied, you never did. Everything you felt was pure and true, and your emotions always matched your actions."

Hisoka smiled, swallowing a small lump in his throat, "That's why it's so hard to see you this way. You're supposed to be smiling and laughing, not empty and dead. I always thought it was annoying, but in truth, I needed it. I needed your light and warmth. It made me strong and got me through all the crap I've had to deal with over the years."

The lump was growing, and it was choking his voice, "I still need it, Tsuzuki. I need you. I feel so alone without you. I know I'm being selfish, but please wake up for me? I need you here. _Please_," he whispered, searching Tsuzuki's face for some kind of sign of acknowledgment, a twitch, a flicker. _Anything_.

But Tsuzuki continued to look blankly forward, taking in everything and seeing nothing.

Hisoka had always been very careful not to touch Tsuzuki. The soulless aura his body emanated frightened him, and he feared that if he reached out, he would become lost in it. But right then, he was vulnerable and desperate, and he needed Tsuzuki more than ever. He needed to know that his Tsuzuki was in there somewhere, even if he had to comb through the depths of his mind to find him. He reached out and touched his partner's hand.

_He was drowning. He couldn't see or hear, only feel. **Painragesadnesslloathingguilt** and the **ohgodohgodmakeitstop**. He was burning and falling and there was no one to catch him. He wanted to laugh and cry and scream, and he wanted to do it all at the same time. He prayed for death, if only to end this terrible existence._

And then, Hisoka felt something warm wrapping around him like a great blanket. _You don't belong here, little one, _itseemed to say in a way beyond words, _Let me take you home._

The warmth pushed Hisoka forward, and a light began to grow in the distance, small at first, but getting larger and larger until it was impossibly bright. In that moment, the presence began to recede. _No_, Hisoka said firmly, reaching out and taking hold, _you're coming with me. I know you don't belong here either_. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving this kind existance in this awful place. The force struggled, trying to retreat to the depths of the abyss where it had originated, but Hisoka held on fast and continued to inch forward until he had reached the light's very core…

"—saki-san! Kurosaki-san!"

Hisoka blinked as Muraki's face swam into view, "Huh?" he asked, blinking rapidly, "What happened?"

"That's what I would like to know." the doctor replied irritably, "I've been calling your name for the last ten minutes, but all you did was stare off into space. Nothing I did could rouse you, and you refused to let go of the patient's hand. Why are you even in here? You know that this room is off limits."

Hisoka smiled groggily and nodded, "Yes, I do know that." He felt very strange, as if he had just woken from a very deep sleep, and his brain wasn't working properly to conduct a plausible excuse.

The doctor let out an aggravated sigh, "Why are you crying?"

Hisoka touched his face. Yes, he could feel the wetness there, soaking his cheeks and burning his eyes. He didn't know when they had started or for how long they had been going, but he knew why they were there.

Hisoka smiled at Muraki sadly and nodded in Tsuzuki's direction, "Because he can't."

Muraki stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Hisoka couldn't help but laugh a little at his befuddled expression. A man such as himself could have never understood the meaning of Hisoka's words.

The doctor scowled at Hisoka's apparent amusement and harshly grabbed his arm to lead him out, scolding him all the way. Neither one of them noticed the flickering of Tsuzuki's eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I think I'm going to make the new deadline the end of November. I'm not giving myself quite so much of a large margin to work with this time, so I don't know if I'll make it. However, I should be getting quite a bit of vacation time for Thanksgiving, so it's not out of the realm of possibility.

Trick or treat? I'll accept reviews in the place of candy.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I know this is late. In my defense, I had it all written about two days before the end of the month, but unfortunately my editor (also known as my big sister) was too busy to look it over. I had no choice but to wait. I'm pretty close though, aren't I?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yami no Matsuei.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Muraki had managed to tow Hisoka halfway out the door before they were unexpectedly called back.

"Wait," a voice called. It sounded scratchy and hoarse from disuse, but it didn't matter. Hisoka would have known it anywhere.

He turned around just in time to see his partner sitting up slowly, and for the third time that day, Hisoka had to force back the tears forming in the corner of his eyes at the simple miracle that was his partner _moving _and _looking at him_ for the first time in weeks.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka whispered, pulling himself out of Muraki's grasp and stumbling towards him in a sort of stunned half daze. The doctor made no move to stop him. He was a little shell-shocked himself.

Tsuzuki's hand reached out as if to touch Hisoka's skin, but it never quite made it. Instead, it simply hung uselessly in the air, unable to bridge the invisible gap between them. "I know you," the man said wonderingly. "I've seen your face in my dreams."

Hisoka smiled and nodded, even though he had no idea what Tsuzuki was talking about. All that mattered was that he was _here_; that Hisoka wasn't alone anymore. Everything else was irrelevant.

Soon, however, the marveling expression gave way to one of bewildered confusion, "But I've never met you before, have I? How do you know my name? Who are you?"

Hisoka's smile faltered slightly as he tried to remain unaffected by Tsuzuki's words. He had been expecting this. Of course his partner didn't remember him. In this moment, there wasn't anything _to_ remember. But he couldn't repress the small feeling of hurt resonating in his chest, especially when Tsuzuki's first whispered words had unknowingly filled him with such hope.

"I'm a friend," Hisoka said simply, "That's all you need to know."

Tsuzuki's answer was a heartbreakingly sad smile, "I don't have any friends."

Hisoka was about to answer with a firm assurance of the contrary, when he was interrupted by the very deliberate sound of a throat being cleared.

"It's so wonderful to see you awake…Tsuzuki-san, was it? I'm afraid you've never been conscious long enough for us to be properly introduced." Muraki said, a cruel mockery of a smile gracing his lips.

"I'm well aware of who you are, Doctor," Tsuzuki responded coldly, his eyes simmering violet embers, "You're the man who refuses to just let me die."

Muraki looked momentarily taken aback, but soon the expression was smoothed over and returned to that horrible smile. "Well, as a doctor, it is my job to preserve life. I can't just let it be wasted."

Tsuzuki shook his head, "That argument doesn't apply to an unholy being such as myself. I shouldn't be alive. I should never have existed at all!"

From the moment he had woken up, Tsuzuki, while admittedly confused, had been oddly calm considering he had just been revived from a coma. However, this composure was rapidly fading away in favor of all-consuming misery.

"I'm a monster, a demon! I deserve to die like they did!" Tsuzuki cried. Then, as if to emphasize his point, he twisted his head and slammed it soundly against the steel frame.

Muraki gave a cry of alarm, and ran over to restrain him, all the while calling desperately for help. Tsuzuki twisted wildly in his arms, blood pouring from his head like a crimson stream.

All Hisoka could do was stand there and watch in utter horror. He had read about Tsuzuki's suicidal tendencies in his file; had even witnessed a few attempts in person, but nothing could have prepared him for this. How could a person switch from composed to suicidal in a matter of seconds? One minute, he was calmly conversing, the next he was writhing and yelling, all for the single goal of hurting himself.

What could be so bad that he didn't believe that he deserved to live? Tsuzuki had never spoken of his past, and as Hisoka wasn't exactly forthcoming himself, he had never pressed him about it. But Hisoka honestly couldn't imagine the sweet, caring Tsuzuki he knew to have ever done anything that warranted death.

But this wasn't the sweet, caring Tsuzuki he knew.

And really, how well did he know Tsuzuki anyway? All of Hisoka's judgments were based solely on outside observations of his personality. How ironic. Here he was, an empath, but he still had no idea what went on in Tsuzuki's heart and mind.

But whenever Hisoka had touched Tsuzuki, all he had ever felt was warmth. He cared so much for others. He tried so hard to save people, including Hisoka, and he was always heartbroken when that just wasn't possible. He was a truly good person, perhaps one of the few. He couldn't die. Hisoka wouldn't let him.

"Stop it, Tsuzuki." Hisoka said quietly. Tsuzuki was making such a racket, it didn't seem possible that he would be able to hear his small voice, but he did. Even more amazing was the fact that he actually listened. His movements stilled; startled purple eyes gazed at Hisoka's face.

Hisoka smiled and leaned close to his face, "Please don't throw your life away. It would make me very sad."

Tsuzuki's eyes widened as Hisoka reached out to cup his face. He could feel the misery and self-loathing convalescing in Tsuzuki's heart, and silently willed the pain to go away, even if just for a little while.

"I want you to live, Tsuzuki," Hisoka said firmly, "Even if it's selfish of me, I want you to live. People need you. _I _need you. Please don't leave me alone again."

The words must have sounded strange coming from someone who for all intents and purposes, was a complete stranger, but Tsuzuki didn't seem to think so. Instead, he simply leaned into Hisoka's soft touch and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

* * *

Considering that Muraki had been adamant that Hisoka stay away from his precious "patient zero", he was surprisingly compliant when Hisoka asked to be allowed to stay in the same room. Hisoka was suspicious of the reasoning, but since he was getting what he wanted he didn't press the matter.

The first part of the afternoon was a scramble of activity as Hisoka made the move. It wasn't as if he had to pack or anything, but some of the furniture in Tsuzuki's room had to be rearranged to accommodate another bed. Finally, a space had been set up for Hisoka to sleep, and he found himself being left alone with Tsuzuki, who had watched the whole moving process as an impassive observer.

It only took fifteen minutes of utter silence for Hisoka to realize what a fool he was. He had told himself over and over again that this Tsuzuki was not the same one he knew. Regardless, no matter how he had tried to prepare himself, a part of him had still fully expected Tsuzuki to act the way he was familiar with. Not even the man's near suicide had convinced his brain otherwise.

Only now, with Tsuzuki staring blankly out the window, did Hisoka realize just how much the man had changed. Or rather, _hadn't_ changed. Not yet. It really wasn't all that different than when Hisoka had visited his bedside, except Tsuzuki was now staring out a window, rather than just empty space.

"Talk to me."

The voice was quiet and hesitant, but at the same time so unexpected that Hisoka almost fell off his newly acquired bed.

"What?" he asked, confused by the sudden, rather vague request.

"Talk to me," Tsuzuki repeated, which didn't clarify it for Hisoka at all.

"Uh…okay. About what?" Hisoka asked. He didn't want to lose this chance now that Tsuzuki was finally speaking to him.

The purple eyed man shrugged, "About anything, I don't care. Just talk."

"Why?" Hisoka asked. He felt like he was trying to coax a baby rabbit out of its hole.

Tsuzuki hesitated for a long moment, and just as Hisoka had started to berate himself for pushing the man too far, he finally answered.

"I just…like the sound of your voice."

"My voice?" Hisoka parroted, raising an eyebrow.

Tsuzuki nodded, and Hisoka was very pleased to see that he had finally torn his gaze from the window.

"I could hear it when I was…out," he explained timidly, "I couldn't really understand what you were saying, but it was very…warm. It was nice."

Hisoka blushed, "Oh," he replied, not entirely sure how one was supposed to respond to such a comment, "Is that why you let me to stay here? Most people would think it was odd to have a total stranger ask to move in with them."

"No," Tsuzuki said, "Not entirely anyway. I can't really explain it, but I feel like I know you. But how can that be? I'm certain that I've never met you before."

Hisoka smiled. With gentle movements, he walked over to sit on Tsuzuki's bed.

"I think I went about this the wrong way," Hisoka decided, "Why don't we forget everything that happened earlier and start over?"

Hisoka held out his hand, "I'm Kurosaki Hisoka. It's very nice to meet you."

Tsuzuki stared at the offered fingers for a long moment before gently clasping them in his own, "I'm Tsuzuki Asato."

The smile he offered wasn't nearly as large and friendly as Hisoka was used to, but it was progress all the same.

* * *

"I'm surprised you allowed Kurosaki-san to stay in Patient Zero's room like that, Sensei," the young woman said. "It's unlike you to risk such an important research subject to be compromised."

The woman was one of the few other doctors the hospital possessed, although not even she knew what the patient's true purpose was. She only knew that the man was a sort of pet project of the doctor's, one he kept highly secret.

Muraki's lips twisted in a smile that was all teeth and no warmth, "I assure you I have no idea what you are talking about. Patient Z—excuse me, _Tsuzuki-san_, is merely another patient and nothing more. And even if he was otherwise, I don't believe that it would be any of your business."

The woman smirked, "Fine, be that way. Your little science experiment, whatever it may be, doesn't really interest me one way or another. I was merely curious."

Her colleague chuckled, "My dear woman, I believe you have just answered your own question."

"What?" the young doctor blinked in confusion.

"Curiosity. That was my sole reason for granting that boy's wish. Simple curiosity."

* * *

_It lurked in the shadows, always in the shadows, watching as the boy spoke softly to his violet eyed companion. Already the child was proving far more valuable than expected. With the boy acting as its queen, there was no doubt in its mind that he would bring its plan into checkmate._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Just a note on the female doctor. I'm aware that back then, a woman doctor would have been very rare. However, it wouldn't have been entirely unheard of, and Muraki doesn't strike me as a man who would care about gender. Also, I wasn't able to fit this in the chapter, but most of the reason the woman didn't question Muraki about Tsuzuki further was because she didn't want to risk losing her job. She most likely wouldn't be able to practice anywhere else, which is yet another reason Muraki hired her.

**Deadline:** Probably sometime in January. I'm really busy with my other project, plus the holidays are coming up. Depending on how much time I have on my hands and how bored I get, it may be sooner.

**Please review? I'm really very needy and require constant love.**


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